[ it's so, so difficult to accept someone offering a hand like this. be strong, jiaoqiu. stand up, jiaoqiu, and face your end with dignity and poise. rely on none, but keep them moving. you are responsible for their bones, their muscles, their stomachs. their hearts. the smiles, on their faces. it has always been something he has readily accepted. something he chose to do.
the battlefield is a bitterly cold place, his old master had told him. he feels that sentence. he feels it soaking into his skin, feels ice crawling up his spine. it's so difficult, these days, to generate warmth. even now, as taair leans against him, he feels like he could shatter.
he doesn't, of course. and... he's not so stubborn to admit that it is nice to not be alone. ]
[ me rereading this tag like jesus fucking christ sisi don't tag at two am
anyway. it's hard to see the black void that jiaoqiu is in from the outside - no matter how observant he is, a finely tuned mask is a finely tuned mask. it will take time, to come to understand what it means for him to lose, to grieve, and to feel nothing at all.
but... any action, even inaction, in the face of such devastating circumstances is a valid one, and taair, who so longs to view the perspective of others, is not one to view grief as anything but personal. if leaning against him is the wrong thing to do, he'd move. he's not sure, in this moment, but that softly said phrase is a little reassuring towards that, too. ]
I like your company just the way it is, my dear friend. [ happy, sad, angry, fussy. it's still jiaoqiu's company. nothing about it could be poor. ] Nothing needs to be said, or done.
Perhaps I can tell you a story. If nothing else, to pass the time.
[ bro i feel that my brain was so fried at two am that i was like hm perhaps tomorrow
at the very least, even if jiaoqiu is numbed to the worst of it, he doesn't pull away. it's nice to have something to be grounded by. if he focuses on that instead of the black hole at his feet, lapping gently at his boots like the tide - maybe it'll be better. ]
If you'd like.
[ sure, yeah. a story is okay. he's okay with that. ]
[ as ever, taair's voice is soft, and he considers the wide breadth of knowledge available at his fingertips. there are so many tragic histories that he's studied, so many things that might make jiaoqiu feel worse. his personal favorite story is about martyrdom, even, the deaths of men who fought for independence and freedom. perhaps there's more than one reason it resonates.
so.. instead, he looks upwards, to the stars overhead. ]
...Do you have convallaria flowers, where you come from, Jiaoqiu?
he nods, then - that's a good place to start. taair's voice is soft and gentle, but his words are warm, immersed with the love he has for the stories of his homeland - he makes a good storyteller, as he keeps his gaze upwards. ]
The convallaria goes by other names - I believe in some places it is known as the Lily of the Valley. Either way, it grows bountifully in Iria, and large fields of them bloom throughout the spring and summer, making the rolling hills look like they're speckled with starlight. They're not very large flowers - in fact, they're small clusters of white, bell shaped flowers all on one stem.
There are a few legends as to where the convallaria flowers came from, and why Iria in particular supports their growth. Surely, there are scientific reasons - the climate, the condition of the soil...but I find myself much more partial to the mythical, no matter how fantastic these things seems.
In Iria, convallaria flowers are attributed to the first woman who walked the Earth. Supposedly, she lost her very first child not long after he was born - and was so moved to sorrow that she sank to the ground and sobbed so hard the ground shook. Nothing could stop her tears - she cried the entire Iria river that runs through our lands, until it connected from sea to sea - and her husband prayed to the Radiant for aid in his desperation, to support his beloved wife after her loss.
The Radiant heard his prayers and her cries, and They were so moved by her sorrow and grief that they transformed the land. No longer did her tears make rivers - when they hit the soil, her tears bloomed into convallaria flowers. Before her eyes, barren fields of dark despair were threaded with flower petals, tiny bells ringing for her grief, in solidarity and support - a sign of beauty and support, as the Radiant hoped to provide comfort, in all of her pain.
The flowers did just that. As she and her husband worked through their grief, the convallaria brought her comfort in her darkest days; and eventually, the couple were blessed with a healthy baby boy. A few years later, she bore another - then another, and another. And when the first woman finally passed away, the matriarch of a family tree, the Radiant took her soul to the stars, where she was united with her first child - the one she'd long since lost.
The two of them formed a constellation - the stem of the mother, and her small star - her first flower. And as her children grew and had children of their own, and eventually passed on, they joined her and their eldest sibling in the sky, forming the eight-star constellation of the Convallaria.
[ he makes a gesture at the stars above - tracing three stars in a row, and then a few afterwards that aren't there, or where they might be. ]
The convallaria themselves have come to represent motherhood and persevering love in Iria - but they also represent a dawn after the darkness. A wonderful constellation, indeed.
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no subject
the battlefield is a bitterly cold place, his old master had told him. he feels that sentence. he feels it soaking into his skin, feels ice crawling up his spine. it's so difficult, these days, to generate warmth. even now, as taair leans against him, he feels like he could shatter.
he doesn't, of course. and... he's not so stubborn to admit that it is nice to not be alone. ]
I don't mind. Stay however long you'd like.
[ he says, soft. ]
I apologize for my poor company.
no subject
anyway. it's hard to see the black void that jiaoqiu is in from the outside - no matter how observant he is, a finely tuned mask is a finely tuned mask. it will take time, to come to understand what it means for him to lose, to grieve, and to feel nothing at all.
but... any action, even inaction, in the face of such devastating circumstances is a valid one, and taair, who so longs to view the perspective of others, is not one to view grief as anything but personal. if leaning against him is the wrong thing to do, he'd move. he's not sure, in this moment, but that softly said phrase is a little reassuring towards that, too. ]
I like your company just the way it is, my dear friend. [ happy, sad, angry, fussy. it's still jiaoqiu's company. nothing about it could be poor. ] Nothing needs to be said, or done.
Perhaps I can tell you a story. If nothing else, to pass the time.
no subject
at the very least, even if jiaoqiu is numbed to the worst of it, he doesn't pull away. it's nice to have something to be grounded by. if he focuses on that instead of the black hole at his feet, lapping gently at his boots like the tide - maybe it'll be better. ]
If you'd like.
[ sure, yeah. a story is okay. he's okay with that. ]
no subject
[ as ever, taair's voice is soft, and he considers the wide breadth of knowledge available at his fingertips. there are so many tragic histories that he's studied, so many things that might make jiaoqiu feel worse. his personal favorite story is about martyrdom, even, the deaths of men who fought for independence and freedom. perhaps there's more than one reason it resonates.
so.. instead, he looks upwards, to the stars overhead. ]
...Do you have convallaria flowers, where you come from, Jiaoqiu?
no subject
[ sorry to make you tell me stories on this week but backtags forever ]
no subject
he nods, then - that's a good place to start. taair's voice is soft and gentle, but his words are warm, immersed with the love he has for the stories of his homeland - he makes a good storyteller, as he keeps his gaze upwards. ]
The convallaria goes by other names - I believe in some places it is known as the Lily of the Valley. Either way, it grows bountifully in Iria, and large fields of them bloom throughout the spring and summer, making the rolling hills look like they're speckled with starlight. They're not very large flowers - in fact, they're small clusters of white, bell shaped flowers all on one stem.
There are a few legends as to where the convallaria flowers came from, and why Iria in particular supports their growth. Surely, there are scientific reasons - the climate, the condition of the soil...but I find myself much more partial to the mythical, no matter how fantastic these things seems.
In Iria, convallaria flowers are attributed to the first woman who walked the Earth. Supposedly, she lost her very first child not long after he was born - and was so moved to sorrow that she sank to the ground and sobbed so hard the ground shook. Nothing could stop her tears - she cried the entire Iria river that runs through our lands, until it connected from sea to sea - and her husband prayed to the Radiant for aid in his desperation, to support his beloved wife after her loss.
The Radiant heard his prayers and her cries, and They were so moved by her sorrow and grief that they transformed the land. No longer did her tears make rivers - when they hit the soil, her tears bloomed into convallaria flowers. Before her eyes, barren fields of dark despair were threaded with flower petals, tiny bells ringing for her grief, in solidarity and support - a sign of beauty and support, as the Radiant hoped to provide comfort, in all of her pain.
The flowers did just that. As she and her husband worked through their grief, the convallaria brought her comfort in her darkest days; and eventually, the couple were blessed with a healthy baby boy. A few years later, she bore another - then another, and another. And when the first woman finally passed away, the matriarch of a family tree, the Radiant took her soul to the stars, where she was united with her first child - the one she'd long since lost.
The two of them formed a constellation - the stem of the mother, and her small star - her first flower. And as her children grew and had children of their own, and eventually passed on, they joined her and their eldest sibling in the sky, forming the eight-star constellation of the Convallaria.
[ he makes a gesture at the stars above - tracing three stars in a row, and then a few afterwards that aren't there, or where they might be. ]
The convallaria themselves have come to represent motherhood and persevering love in Iria - but they also represent a dawn after the darkness. A wonderful constellation, indeed.